


glinting in the dark

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [36]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Podfic Available, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14748875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: “I’m glad you decided to do this with me,” Ryan says, shutting his eyes and dropping one hand on top of Shane’s. “The show is better with you.I’mbetter with you.” It’s quite possibly the sappiest thing he’s ever allowed himself to say, and even though he definitely means it with everything he has, he’s more than a little glad that Shane isn’t awake to hear it.That relief vanishes like smoke a few seconds later when Shane groans loudly and rolls over so that he’s half-draped on top of Ryan.





	glinting in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAliceLilith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAliceLilith/gifts).



> this was written for the prompt "Ryan/Shane - “I’m better when I’m with you.” and for the latest edition of prompt roulette over at the bfu writer's discord, where one of the challenges was 'castle.' 
> 
> fun fact, Boldt Castle is a real place (that I haven't been lucky enough to visit) but as far as I know, it is not haunted.

The thing is, Ryan knows that this isn’t the scariest place they’ve ever investigated. 

If he really put some thought into it, if he spent a few minutes combing through their back catalog, Boldt Castle might not even make it into the top ten. After all, between the body chute stretching out under Waverly Hills and the cavernous darkness of the cell block at Ohio State Reformatory and _everything_ about the Sallie House, the castle is certainly up against some stiff competition. 

However, while all of those places might be scarier when measured on an objective scale, the simple fact of the matter is that all of them are now in the past. Ryan has already survived (or, mostly survived, at least – he’s pretty sure he left some of his soul behind in the Sallie House) all of them. 

Boldt Castle, on the other hand, is very much in the here or now, and Ryan is starting to suspect that he might not actually make it through the night in one piece.

It’s somewhere past three o’clock in the morning, although truth be told, it could very well be the middle of the afternoon and, aside from his phone, he’d have no reliable way of knowing; there are massive velvet drapes covering the multiple windows carved into the curving rock walls, drapes that look like they could easily be suffocating if they fell on top of someone. He has the distinct feeling that he’s been swallowed whole by some great beast; the only exception to the utter darkness is the feeble green glow of their camera at the foot of the bed. On the one hand, Ryan is glad that there’s _some_ kind of proof that he isn’t simply floating in a nameless void, but on the other hand, the longer he looks at the light, the more he realizes that it looks like a single, unblinking eye, piercing through the darkness and staring back at him.

Unfortunately, the darkness isn’t the only problem. 

The room is located in one of the castle’s four towers, and the ceiling stretches up far overhead to a cupola. Between the top of the cupola and their bed, there’s nothing but empty air, and as soon as Ryan turned off his flashlight, the whole space seemed to transform into one gigantic echo chamber. He keeps hearing quiet rustling, fabric brushing against something, muted whispers. There’s no way in hell that it’s the wind; the drapes would muffle any wind that managed to get in, and he can’t feel any breeze against his skin. The air is still and thick with the smell of dust.

Frankly, it’s either bats or ghosts, and at this point, he isn’t sure which of those options is worse.

The only good thing that can actually be said about the room is that the massive four-poster bed serving as the centerpiece of the expansive space is actually quite comfortable. The mattress is soft, and the blankets are heavy and plush (and thankfully not as dusty as the rest of the room). In some kind of alternate universe, where the bed was part of a motel room, Ryan’s pretty sure that he would have passed out within minutes of sliding underneath the covers.

As is, even though they turned in for the night hours ago, he hasn’t gotten a single second of sleep. 

Shane, on the other hand, is snoring softly, one long-fingered hand splayed across Ryan’s forearm, close enough for Ryan to feel his body heat, even though the bed is large enough to fit at least four people. Ryan’s tried to wake him a few times, but the biggest reaction he’s managed to elicit was a snuffle, followed by a light kick to his ankle that could have very well been an accident.

But he thinks he might have to try again soon. He feels a twinge of guilt about it (at least _one_ of them should get some sleep) but, even though he knows it’s probably just his overactive imagination, the whispers are starting to sound suspiciously like his own name, and since he can’t very well just up and leave unless he wants to crash in the yacht house or swim across the St. Lawrence River -

(seriously, who builds a goddamn castle on an _island?_ )

-he needs to do something before he loses his damn mind.

“Shane,” he whispers, the word rasping as it leaves his dry throat. For a moment, he has a horrifying vision of something else answering him, something out in the darkness beyond the small sanctuary of their bed, and his whole body grows tight with tension as he waits and waits for what he’s certain is about to come. 

But he doesn’t receive _any_ kind of answer, aside from Shane’s continuing snores. His hand remains motionless on Ryan’s arm, so Ryan tries again, says his name a little louder this time. This time, one of Shane’s fingers twitches minutely, but that’s it.

Ryan sighs and shuts his sore, heavy eyes. Sometimes, he wonders if Shane is human, because there’s no way in hell a normal person, even the most hardcore of skeptics, should be able to sleep so soundly in a place that’s not only unfamiliar and dark but also has an utterly horrifying, tragic history.

“I don’t understand you,” Ryan mutters, turning his head to look in Shane’s direction. It feels pretty fucking dumb to be talking to himself, and they’ll have to do some hefty editing in order to keep it out of the final product, but at the same time, the sound of his own voice is actually doing a semi-decent job at blocking out the continuing whispers, so he decides to keep going. 

Maybe, if he keeps it up, he’ll eventually bore himself to sleep.

“I’m pretty sure that, if I was by myself, I’d have run out of here screaming by now,” he continues, shuffling across the mattress until he can feel Shane’s leg pressing against his own. Shane’s hand slips off his arm and ends up resting on the curve of his ribs. “Or had some kind of psychic break at least.” His mind takes that scenario a little further, and he laughs at the thought of what the supernatural portions of the show would look like if he’d decided to simply go it alone after Brent left. 

They probably wouldn’t have made it past one season, and his ears would likely _still_ be ringing from the sound of his own screams.

Shane’s breathing changes a little, but he doesn’t move, so Ryan keeps talking.

“I’m glad you decided to do this with me,” he says, shutting his eyes and dropping one hand on top of Shane’s. “The show is better with you. _I’m_ better with you.” It’s quite possibly the sappiest thing he’s ever allowed himself to say, and even though he definitely means it with everything he has, he’s more than a little glad that Shane isn’t awake to hear it.

That relief vanishes like smoke a few seconds later when Shane groans loudly, like a creaking wooden door, and rolls over so that he’s half-draped on top of Ryan.

“Love you,” he mumbles, pressing his nose into the soft flesh underneath Ryan’s jaw in an imitation of a kiss. “And it’s just the wind, shut up.”

“It’s _not_ the fucking wind,” Ryan retorts, shifting until Shane’s weight is more comfortably distributed on top of him. The whispers haven’t quieted, but they do seem to sound less like his name, which is an absolute blessing, and whether it’s because of Shane’s warmth or the steady rise and fall of his chest against Ryan’s side, when Ryan closes his eyes, he feels less like he’s going to be ripped to shreds by whatever is awaiting in the darkness. Exhaling deeply and sinking down into the plush mattress, he turns his head and presses his face into Shane’s hair. “Goodnight, big guy.”

“Night, Ry.”

(Ryan manages to get an hour and a half of sleep before he bolts awake again, ripped from tenuous dreams by a sound he can no longer remember. Before he can say Shane’s name, Shane mumbles something totally incomprehensible, kisses Ryan’s cheek and settles heavily upon him again.

This time, Ryan sleeps until daybreak.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Glinting in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067314) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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